


Spare Me Over Til Another Year

by ivanolix



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, Canon - TV, Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Morbid, Rough Sex, Season/Series 04, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-08
Updated: 2009-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivanolix/pseuds/ivanolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're losing themselves in death, but if they push against each other, somehow it turns into life</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spare Me Over Til Another Year

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for karate0kat , from a challenge on bsg_kink . She wanted Kara/Sam rough!sex, and that's certainly what this is. It also has a weird obsession with thinking and talking about death...definitely angsty and a little frakked up, though. Think Demetrius!sex 2.0, with added cylon weirdness.

Lost in the woods, went the old saying. Kara didn’t know woods, not the way she knew stars and ships and even cities, not the way she used to in any case. It didn’t make her any less lost.

Her skin still felt the lingering heat of flames that scorched away rubber and dead flesh, leaving pale-white bones among driftwood ashes. Her hair still smelt of smoke if the wind blew the right way, no life on the planet to give the air a scent of its own. Earth had not become a home, it had become her final resting place. The second one, after the stars had claimed her first death.

She’d gone to the ship to talk to Lee, because at this point he was the easy choice. Her mind hadn’t wrapped around what she would say, how she would convince him that it didn’t matter what he believed, she was supposed to be dead. He’d solved that problem for her, and yet another death was added to her list of remembrances. She should have felt sorry for him, feel pain at Dee’s loss. But her mind laughed at her, telling her that she should be comfortable with all this death now. After all, that was what she was.

Lost in it, not wanting to give in, she had to go back down to the planet, to the cold death of those black shores where holocaust had been waged so long before. And she felt content for a moment, free to stand with arms tightly crossed and eyes squinted against the harsh light off the water. Death was all around her, and it didn’t feel strange.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the sole D’Anna in the universe disappear over the horizon, walking without a purpose. Kara’s mouth twisted into a dangerous smile. Maybe that was the answer; maybe she was a cylon after all. A model abandoned for incompatibility, for unconquerable flaws, but not before genocide had been flooded through her blood. Maybe she had never been activated, but wounds had dug so deep that all the death had come rising out, fountaining forth into her life and taking _her_ when she wouldn’t let it take anyone else.

She laughed harshly into the empty air of Earth, while what was left of her heart threatened to break, and yet what she had cradled carefully as her humanity wasn’t ready to be abandoned just yet. Not  just yet.

Turning away from the sea, she walked towards a grassy line past the sand, dotted with stumps and tall bare trunks. Her feet crushed the clumps of vegetation, but released no fresh scent. If she stayed in the wind long enough, the odor of smoke might leave her hair, might cleanse her and leave her smelling cold and empty like the rest of Earth.

“Kara,” came a soft word on the wind.

Sam came walking, looking at her in a way that wasn’t certain of anything but a reason to be near her. He was lost, and the only path she could see for him to find was that of the cylons. Of death; of resurrection, but of death and death and death. He wasn’t the easy choice anymore, or if he was, it was the ease of accepting how closely death wrapped around her heart. She had even married the representation of repeating death.

“Come to make a statement, Sam?” she said, as he drew near, and she turned on her feet.

“That would be assuming that there’s something to say,” he answered, standing just a couple feet off, the breeze pulling at his hair, giving his face reason to pull in tight and tense. “And everything that can be said has been said, by someone, in someone’s mind.”

“Of course it has,” Kara answered, her face turning quickly up towards his, the intensity burning behind her taut expression as she focused on the other struggle in her life. “And have you said it too, Sam? How much have you admitted? Do you remember wiping your own memories, turning yourself into a helpless pyramid player to worm your way into the fleet? What were the protocols of that mission, exactly?”

“Are you really going to do this, Kara?” he asked, an eyebrow raised, stepping close and looking down in her face. “You’re going to expect more of me than you do of yourself? Hasn’t it always been the other way around?” His eyes were dark, keenly gripping hers.

“Get out,” she answered, feeling him turn it back to her, her tone low and coiled in a way that still carried across the cold planet air.

“And why should I do that?” he answered, face leaning towards her, a power in the desperation and confusion that must fuel this. “Because at this point, the truth is the only thing that means anything to us, and you know it. Rumors, expectations, they’re comfortable, but they’re not helping.”

Kara laughed, a short bitter bark into the crisp air. “And the truth about you, Sam?”

“I was born on Earth,” he answered grimly.

Her heart twisted around itself, another layer of losing her foundations. “I was reborn,” she answered, making the words sound empty.

“Yes, and that means nothing,” Sam said, slowly shaking his head, looking down at the grass below. “It’s not enough.”

“You’re wrong, Sam,” Kara answered, and yet he was blocking the wind, and warmth was starting to return to her limbs. He was too close for the world around them to feel chill and cleansing. “If you’re a cylon, and I might as well be, it’s enough to know the final point. And it’s just like what the hybrid said, I am the harbinger of death. So are you.”

He looked back to her face, but there was a kind of understanding, not confusion. It only proved her point, how being death made more sense than it should.

“Look around, Sam,” she said, stepping into his space, looking up with sharp eyes and a  stiff laugh. “See Earth?” she said, almost a whisper.

He just stared down at her, a dark frown there but not for her yet.

She laughed, a crazy near-giggle. She was lost, and when she was lost she would find herself in Sam, but this time it was twisted; this time she was finding the wrong part of herself. “All around us,” she said, gesturing. “People are afraid of death, people feel a cold hand reaching for them and they run like little rabbits, reaching for fear to save them from death. And yet here we are.” She gave him a weird smile, letting her hands splay out in front of her. “And death is in us. Genocide, murder, war, rebirth, it’s in our blood, Sam. We can’t fear it, we can’t run away, because it’s who we are. We’re down on this dead planet because it’s closer to home than all that life on Galactica. This dead world makes us feel more secure.” She could feel the hint of anger, disgust, on her face.

He breathed in slowly, looking down once again, then gripped her hands in his. “You want to believe that?” he asked, just above a whisper.

“It makes sense, it feels like truth,” Kara answered, holding his gaze closely. “You were right, that’s what we need. Truth.”

“I don’t believe it,” Sam answered firmly, a burning light starting in his eyes. “I don’t, I don’t frakking believe it.”

Kara was feeling the warmth intensify, the tension increasing it, the restless urge coming back to her and giving her a direction. “So deny it, what the frak do I care,” she answered, fully angry, pulling her hands back. “Denial doesn’t last long enough to be a comfort, Sam, and you’ll figure that out,” she said.

“Neither does anger,” he answered, shooting her a direct look, fire swirling in his eyes anyway.

“Now _that_ I won’t believe,” she answered sharply, and suddenly pushed him back, letting the tension lead her on. He stumbled back into a tree, not breaking his gaze, and with a grunt of anger she grabbed at his head, crushed her lips against his.

Sam’s hands were quick, sliding around her waist, seizing her with a strength that made her release her breath slowly. He slid her body closer, pulling her in with a short tug, his breath by her ear. “You think all this energy is just death?” he asked in a harsh whisper, anger and underlying confusion warring there.

“Best guess, isn’t it?” she answered, another dangerous smile crossing her lips. And some part of her _wanted_ it to be the best guess, too. One of her hands found his hip, digging in with hard fingers.

But then Sam growled and she felt his teeth on her neck. Her breath hissed past her teeth as she inhaled, and he sucked sharply for a second before letting her go.

“Fine,” he said, harsh and breathless. “As theories go, death giving us life isn’t your craziest.”

She cackled against his neck, feeling the fire in their veins coming close enough to mingle, if they just pushed harder together. “Stop thinking, Sam—”

His foot wrapped around her ankle, twisting her around. His hand found her hair, fingers twisting in the wind-blown strands as he pushed her head back, pushed her body against the wood. The thud vibrated through her body, the hint of pain giving her the push closer.

Their teeth nearly clashed when he found her mouth with his, breath hot and heavy as he consumed her. She closed her eyes too fast, saw the fire behind her eyelids, and reached for his body with hands unafraid to leave marks. He was sharp, intense, crushing her against the tree, until the clothes between them seemed meaningless as the heat crossed through, sending all thoughts of cold and wind far away.

And she ate up the heat, devouring his mouth and tongue as it covered hers. Her hand curled up around his shoulder, finding the hair on the back of his neck, digging in her fingernails as he bit at her lip, now swollen and red.

He grunted against her when she scratched, and his hand left where it had gripped her hair, pulling her hand and slamming it against the tree. She yanked back, but he was using cylon strength for the first time in his life, and if she was cylon, she didn’t have what he did. His long fingers wrapped around her wrist, the callouses on his fingertips pressing against the inside of her wrist where her blood pulsed.

Her breath caught in her throat again, but she couldn’t get another one. His mouth still pressed against hers, the back of her head pinned against the tree trunk, giving her no space to move. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her mind spinning with the heat and lack of air, filling her with a kind of life that was always on the verge of painful—but needed, oh so needed. A small noise escaped her throat, and Sam finally broke free, and her lips felt tender as she breathed in quickly.

“Kara,” he said, eyes finding hers, but their expressions matched and like two flames they joined and grew brighter, bright enough to hide the doubt behind the fire.

She snarled, taking the moment to let her free hand find his coat, ripping at the clasps, pulling at the shirt beneath, fighting to find the stronger heat that lay beneath his skin. His hands circled her waist, under her jacket. The clothes pulled at her and hurt a little as they fought with each other’s, hasty and needy.

They could play with life like this, putting a little pain into it, making it fresher because there was no danger in the pain. Never had been, but now they knew why. They were death—and with each other, this was all too right to be avoided.

But when Sam finally had her jacket unzipped, and just as she bared his chest, the cold air touched her belly and she inhaled deeply. He paused for a moment, and then suddenly his arms wrapped around her, lifting her, squeezing her in his arms.

“Raptor,” he whispered, and with her feet lifted off the ground he started walking towards the ship that had brought her down, leaving behind the cold outdoors.

She could feel her heart flutter against his chest, feel his breathing quick and jerky. His long legs carried them quickly, and she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent, pressing her mouth against where his blood pumped fast. Her legs wrapped tightly around his hips as her teeth scraped against his skin.

His breath halted for a second, but it was only a few seconds before his long strides had brought them to the ship. She could barely breathe with his tight grip around her, but as soon as he’d carried her up into the ship, she let her feet fall as one of his arms loosened. His hand reached out, closing the door, locking it, so he could crush her again, this time against the raptor door.

They were both breathing too hard to kiss until the last vestiges of clothing were stripped, bare skin heating the enclosed air inside the raptor. It didn’t feel as right in here, not as appropriate to be ship-bound for this, until Sam’s lips found hers again, and her head flew back against the door with the ferocity of his kiss.

Every part of her was close, and when he grabbed for her hands again, pinning them to the bulkhead, she laughed in her throat and let him. It was the closest thing she had to a choice, and that was just fine in this moment. He shifted, bringing her hands up over her head, needing only one broad hand of his to keep them in a firm grasp.

When he paused for breath, face pressed fervently against her neck, she grinned and felt his cock hard pressed against her bare leg. The strength and anger weren’t enough, yet, and as he held her up against the door she wrapped her legs around his hips again, letting him support her and drawing him in closer.

The roughness of the door behind her didn’t come to her attention until Sam brought his free hand down, gripping his cock and guiding it into her in a sharp thrust. She grunted as he fit in, driving in and out, and her back felt every groove. Her legs squeezed tighter, heels pressing against his lower back, and she hoped he would bruise too. His chest pressed against hers with every thrust, leaving his neck open to her, and she bit down and sucked sharply.

Sam made a choking noise and drove harder into her, and she bit harder, closing her eyes, letting pleasure and pain drown out her sense that she didn’t belong here, in this human ship that stood for life without machine resurrection. Sam let her hands free, curling his around her shoulders, hugging her to him so that the only slamming force on her body was the thrusts of his hips.

She groaned in the back of her throat, and then heard him gasp. The tension was rising, getting closer, and they were finding each other—Sam had been right, the anger hadn’t lasted, and all that remained was this harsh need to not be lost. Whatever it took.

“Kara—” Sam said, his fast breathing blowing in her hair. “Love you.”

“I know,” she murmured against his neck, and then she whimpered as he pushed harder into her and she felt her release coming close. She turned her head, brushing her nose and lips against his neck, feeling the softer heat up here to complement the burning fire in their loins. Everything was fitting so closely, two puzzle pieces snapping into place but not fast enough.

But at last she clamped tighter, crying out against Sam’s throat, hands scrabbling to grip his shoulders as she jerked around him. The pulsing waves of pleasure kept throbbing, almost painfully, as he continued to thrust, working up his pace. If she could have thought, she would have wondered if this was a cleansing fire more than anything else. She held on tightly as he slammed his last few thrusts into her, him finally bursting with a small cry and holding her so close that she couldn’t breathe.

He stumbled, and they crumpled to the floor, dizzy with orgasm and a loss of strength after all that they’d thrown at each other. The air was hot and muggy even as it swirled above their heads, but the floor was cool. Kara lay on top of Sam, felt the strong beat of his heart, with her fingers splayed on the chill metal of the floor beneath him. Heat and cold, flesh and metal, life and death. All the contradictions that might make them who they were.

Kara could see tiny bruises on Sam’s chest and neck, and red marks that were turning purple on his neck even as they lay and tried to catch their breath. Her own body felt tender and sore, weary with effort and yet not broken. Sam’s hand rested at the curve of her hip, holding her without the fierceness of just a few minutes before.

She inhaled and was overwhelmed with sweat and musk; Kara closed her eyes and smiled a real smile. Maybe they weren’t death after all, or maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. There was no smell of smoke in her hair.


End file.
